Not-So-Hawkeyed
by AFincorporated
Summary: Nathan Barton: son of Clint Barton, the world's greatest archer. Nathan Barton: world's worst archer. At Clint's funeral, Nathan finally has to accept it. One-shot, much better then it sounds I swear.


**AN: This is just a one-shot idea about Clint Barton's youngest son, Nathan. It's just an idea, so please leave reviews. I've always wondered how one of Clint's kids would react if they turned out to be a really bad archer, this is my take.**

Nathan sat on the roof of the barn, carefully balanced on the top of the sloping roof. The sun was high in the sky overhead, and the heat had made him shed his fancy suit jacket.

He hated the suit.

Resting next to him was a bow and quiver of sleek black arrows. He glared at them. He hated them as much as he hated the suit. No, he didn't. He just told people he did. It was an excuse not to use them.

There was a sound from the barn below, and for a minute he thought one of the guests had wandered in, looking to be alone. He wanted to tell them to scram, that this was his hiding place from the wake.

He didn't, though. He just stared out at the horizon, thinking. He wondered if his dad really was in a better place now, or if he was just _gone._ Nathan had never been particularly religious, but now he wished he was. Now that he had lost someone, he wished he was sure that his dad was happy somewhere. Instead of just being _dead._

The noise from the barn under him came again, and this time he caught the voice muttering something about a ladder. It sounded like Rose. He wished she'd go away. He knew why she was here, trying to talk him into it.

The open trapdoor onto the roof was suddenly filled with the top of a wooden ladder. He heard Rose climbing, and turned his back to the trapdoor pointedly, hoping she'd get the message. He wanted to be alone.

He was sure he could predict what she was going to say: she was sorry; if there was anything she could do; it would get better; his dad was in a better place now. More of the shit everyone had been talking for days. Even his Aunt Nat had said it.

Rose sat down next to him, her beautiful black dress now dirty and with a slightly torn hem. She didn't seem to notice or care. Rose Rogers was his best friend, and kind-of-sort-of cousin. Not technically, since Aunt Nat wasn't a blood aunt, but he considered Rose a cousin anyway. But right now, he didn't even want to talk to her.

Rose brushed some of the dirt off her dress absently. She always tilted her head when she was thinking, and she was doing so now. Her brown hair was falling in her eyes, and as always Nathan had to resist the urge to brush it out of the way for her.

"Hey," She said finally. Nathan said nothing. Rose let the silence sink in, then tried again. "Are you gonna be okay?"

From anyone else that question would've been stupid. But he knew what Rose was really asking; _Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?_ Nathan shrugged. "`M fine,"

Rose shot him a sharp look. "If that was true, I'd really be worried. You shouldn't push everyone away, especially not now. They all want to help." She said motioning toward the house behind them. Nathan glanced over his shoulder at Homestead, where he could see the wake through the windows. Every Avenger had come, a half dozen agents, Nick Fury, and his mom's family. Kate Bishop had come with the rest of the Young Avengers, and at least a dozen people Nathan had never met before. Lila and Cooper were back from SHIELD academy for the occasion, and would be taking the rest of the semester off, courtesy of Nick Fury.

Tonight they would be burying his dad where the field met the woods.

"I don't want their help," Nathan decided. "Just go away."

Rose didn't move. He glared at her. "Go away! Dammit, just _leave me alone!_ " She looked hurt, and he regretted shouting, but did nothing but lower his head and clamp his mouth shut. "Please go away."

"No." She said stubbornly. "I won't."

"Why the hell not?"

"You need help. Even if you don't want it. You can't stay up here by yourself forever. So whenever you feel like talking, I'll be right here."  
They sat in silence again. It might've been ten minutes, maybe longer.

"I'm sorry I snapped," Nathan managed finally.

"It's okay."

The silence was maybe a half-hour long this time. Finally, Nathan couldn't stand it anymore. "It's the bow." He said suddenly, and when Rose gave him a confused glance he wished he'd kept his trap shut. "I can't-it's the bow."

They both stared at the bow set at his feet. "What about the bow?" Rose asked finally. "I don't get it. I mean, I know you don't like it, but-"

"I like it." Nathan admitted. "I love shooting. I'm just terrible at it. That's why I've always told people I don't, because I can't do it. I practice all the time, with my dad. But I just can't… get it to go straight. It just isn't right, no matter what I do. My dad… he thought I could do it. But I can't. I feel like I let him down, and now it's too late to…." He trailed off.

Rose frowned. "You didn't let him down."  
"I know."  
"But you said-"

"It's just how it _feels,_ okay?" He interrupted. She nodded.

"I get it."  
They both stared at the bow some more. "It never mattered to him. You know it never mattered to him." Rose said, and she sounded sure. "He was your _dad._ He didn't care that you couldn't shoot."

"I care, though. I'm the suckiest Barton ever."  
"Nah, that'd probably be your Uncle Barney," Rose said, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder towards the house. "You're second."

It was a stupid joke, kind of mean, but Nathan started laughing anyways. Rose looked surprised but in a moment she was laughing, too. Then Nathan's laughs were tears, and Rose had her arms around him.

They stayed there until the sun started to sink, dragged down by the last dredges of the day. Rose tugged on his arm a little. "We've got to go, Nate."

Nathan nodded. He left his suit jacket on the roof, not caring if it lived or died. He did take his bow, though, and Rose carried the quiver down the ladder for him. They led each other out of the barn, Nathan feeling his feet get heavier with every step he took. Rose noticed and took his hand, leading him along. He was grateful.

They got back to the porch, and looked through the windows into the wake. Laura and Barney was talking quietly, both looking a little tearstained. Lila and Cooper were talking to an agent and Lance Barton, Bruce's son. Natasha was slumped in an armchair, staring at the floor. Steve stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders and looking even more preoccupied.

That night, they walked out towards the woods with the casket. Nathan could barely look at it full-on, like it might attack at any moment. Lila and Cooper both had their bows as well. They were going to fire arrows into the sky to say goodbye. The sky: one target Nathan couldn't miss.

The casket was lowered into the ground. Arrows flew into the air. People were talking, and more were crying. Nathan wasn't paying as much attention as he should've.

He was wondering what his dad would think if he could see this. All of them missing him. Probably something stupid but kind of funny, and Nathan even managed a smile. Cooper was burying the coffin. He had his sleeves pushed up, and wouldn't let anyone help him. They were fine to let him do it on his own. He needed to.

Everyone else had wandered away. The gravestone sat primly over the fresh grave. Rose squeezed his hand and left with her parents, knowing he needed a minute alone.

Nathan read the gravestone.

 _Clinton Barton_

 _1985-2032_

 _Beloved father, husband, and friend_

Nathan didn't like it. It wasn't quite right.

He crouched in front of it, one of his shoes just going onto the edge of the grave. His suit was in the dirt now, and he didn't care. He yanked an arrow out of his quiver, and carefully used it to scratch another line into the stone.

 _Archer_

 **AN: thanks for reading! Please leave reviews, it's easy! This was only a one-shot, so it won't be updated.**


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